


Feel the Sand Beneath Our Feet

by Providentia67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beaches, Coda, Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Post-Finale, Vessels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Providentia67/pseuds/Providentia67
Summary: "Smell the sea, and feel the sky.  Let your soul and spirit fly." - Van MorrisonHe knows its not real. He knows the beach and the laughter of his family aren't real.  Michael is trying to use it to keep him complacent when he should be trying to fight his way out.  Even so, as Dean finds himself confronted with everything he's ever wanted, he finds that giving up paradise isn't as easy as he thought.





	Feel the Sand Beneath Our Feet

Dean knows about the happy place Lucifer had made for Cas in the angel’s mind.  Sam told him.  Apparently, it was something the two of them had talked about.  Dean didn’t begrudge the angel that.  Some things you could only talk about with people who had shared a similar experience; and being possessed by Lucifer, Dean was happy not to be a part of that club.  The important thing is that he does know.  And that makes his current situation a bit surreal.

The breeze is cool, carrying with it the scent of salt and ocean tides.  Waves crash in his ears, and even as he closes his eyes he can feel the warmth of the sun beating down on his cheeks.  He’s barefoot, he knows, as he digs his toes deep into the sand.  He knows intrinsically that his shirt is a bright blue Hawaiian t-shirt and that he’s in shorts.  He should feel embarrassed by that, but he doesn’t.  It’s that complete comfort in his own skin that does it; and he remembers.

Sam and Jack.  Lucifer dead - _finally_ dead- at his hand.  Michael.

“None of this is real,” he says to himself as he opens his eyes and looks across this perfect beach.  “Sam.”  He calls for Sam first, of course he does.  “Sammy!”  Then Jack.  “Jack!”  The only answer to his shouts are the calls of seagulls he can’t quite see and another wave crashing against the sand.  Cold water brushes his half-buried toes, sending a pleasant tingle up his spine.

He knows it’s futile, really.  Calling to his family from within his own mind.  But he can’t help it.  He shouts their names to the ocean and again gets no response.  So next he prays, because that’s what Cas’ name is, really, Dean’s only real prayer.

“Cas?”

He says it quietly, feeling the image of paradise in front of him start to turn too large and isolated.  The edge of panic starts creeping into his breathing.  Then he hears it for the first time in years.

_Whump-whump._   “Hello, Dean.”

Dean spins around so fast his bare feet stumble in the sand, but a firm grip on his shoulder steadies him before he can make a complete fool of himself.  He looks up and somehow, it’s his angel.

“Cas, buddy.”  He knows it’s not real.  Cas lost his wings a long time ago.  But he has the angel wrapped in his arms and he doesn’t plan on letting go.  He notices that Cas isn’t wearing a suit and trench coat for a change.  In fact, the angel is decked out in a Hawaiian shirt too and frankly, it looks ridiculous.  Dean loves it.  He knows he’s holding on too long, but none of it is real anyway, so he doesn’t stop and neither does Cas.

“Are you alright, Dean?”  Damn it to Chuck, he sounds just like Cas too.  That right mix of care and concern.

Dean nods against the angel’s shoulder.  “I’m good.”  He blinks his eyes a couple times to clear it of some stray grains of sand and pulls away.  Cas’ arm stays firmly on his shoulder.  “You’re not real, are you?”

The tilted smile Cas gives him is a bit sad around the eyes.  “No.”

Just like that the orientation of the fake world shifts and Dean is on his back.  The sun is shaded by a giant rainbow umbrella, and Dean and Cas are laying side by side on twin beach recliners.  There is laughter in the distance and when Dean looks up, he breaks out in a grin. 

Rowena, looking paler than he’s ever seen her in her black swimsuit, appears mildly irritated as she attempts to straighten her beach towel and read at the same time.  Meanwhile, beyond her, Sam and Gabriel are both waist deep in the water.  Or at least Sam is waist deep, Gabe is just barely wading with his shoulders exposed and Dean expects he might be cheating.  On each of their shoulders is Charlie and Jack.  Charlie’s got one hand gripping Sam’s hair for life while she tries to push Jack from his Uncle’s shoulders.

They’re laughing and happy and it is everything Dean has ever wanted for them.  But none of it is real.

“Does it matter so much that it’s not really them?”  Cas asks him from where he is reclined, head tilted to the side so that he can make eye contact with Dean.

Dean frowns.  “Of course, it does.”

Cas sighs through his nose, but other than that does not seem upset.  How could he be?  This Cas lives in a fantasy.  “You told me once,” he says, shifting to look at their family playing in the water.  “That you would take the pain and the guilt of the real world over a false paradise.”

Dean nods.  “Yeah, I did.”

“They were brave words,” Cas acknowledges.  “Brave enough that they even swayed me to rebellion.  Set the world down the path that has led to here and now.”  Cas sits up and Dean finds himself moving to do so as well.

“They were brave words Dean, but I don’t think they were honest.”

It’s the first time Dean truly sees Michael under the Cas veneer.  He’s on his feet in an instant and finds that he’s now back in his normal clothing.  And armed too.  There’s an angel blade in his hand, and while everything around him is still the sunny beach of his dreams, he refuses to play ball.

“Let me out, Michael.”

The Cas-that-is-Michael smiles.  “No.”

Dean shoves the angel blade so that the point rests under the angel’s chin and says again.  “Let me go.”

Not-Cas tilts his head, unperturbed by the weapon at his throat.  “I’m trying to be kind, Dean.  What would you prefer; the truth?”  There is a shimmer behind Cas and suddenly Dean can see his wings.  Not just the shadows, but the same immense things he had seen for just an instant when he had used Michael’s wings to fly.  They are full and lush with glossy black feathers and they take Dean’s breath away.

Then they begin to fall.  The feathers shred and burn, and Dean can hear an awful crack as the bones splinter and deform under their own weight.  Dean actually has to step back and lift a hand to his mouth to keep from throwing up at the sight of what he’d only ever seen cast in ash on the ground. 

The shrunken, malformed ruin of wings sits bare and visible for Dean to see and he can’t look away.  “Is that… do they-”

“Hurt?” asks Cas, nothing in his expression shifting from the moment before.  “Very much so, yes.”

A sound Dean is not quite sure how to describe makes it out of his mouth and he turns his head.  “Stop it,” he says.  “Put them away.” 

Only when they’re gone does Dean look back. The beach recliners are gone, and with a pat, Cas gestures for Dean to sit beside him on the sand so they can continue watching the others play.  Jack seems to have finally gotten a hand of the game and is grappling with Charlie with both hands while Gabriel sends jets of water into Sam’s face with his powers.  Charlie and Sam crash into the water with a shriek.

Cas is smiling, and Dean can almost forget the gruesome image he had seen over the angel’s shoulders. 

“That is the truth, Dean,” he says.  “Your world is broken.  Your family is broken.”

“They’re not.”

“They are.”  Cas turns and looks at Dean with such a sympathetic moue that he can almost believe Michael to have a heart.  Or perhaps it’s just seeing the expression on Cas’ face that makes it seem so real.

“You fool yourselves into believing things will get better but they won’t.  Sam will never have a truly restful night for as long as he lives, the Charlie you see before you will never be the one you lost, Gabriel is dead, and Jack will live the rest of days hollowed out and knowing that the power that was his birthright has been stolen.”

Dean knows his cheeks are wet.  He sits beside Cas’ image watching Charlie and Jack climb back up for another round and waits for Michael to continue. 

“And Cas?” he finally asks when the silence drags on for too long.

The Cas beside him sighs.  “Castiel’s fate is solitude.” 

Dean shuts his eyes, but he can’t tell his ears not to hear.

“You will die someday Dean Winchester, whether I am the one to release your soul to Heaven or not.  Your brother will die, your mother will die.  Perhaps the Nephilim will live, perhaps not.  But even broken angels will endure.”

“The other hunters will be there,” Dean tries, but he knows it’s pointless.

“Castiel did not cut himself from Heaven for other hunters,” says Michael.  “When you and the rest of this family of yours dies out, he will be left alone.  The angels… I, will not allow him entry into Heaven.  He will wander the Earth alone and if he should die, the empty will have him again.”

A thought flickers in Dean’s mind.  A human Castiel who could live a life with him and Sam.  And pass on with them as well.  But he casts that aside just as fast.  A human soul has one of two destinations.  And if reapers are angels, Dean can’t stand the thought of where they might send a very vulnerable Cas’ soul.

A shadow casts itself over Dean and he opens his eyes to find a canopy of black.  Cas’ wings are whole again and he is using them to cocoon he and Dean away from the world.  Cas-that-is-Michael looks at him.  “There can be no happy ending for him, and certainly not for you together.”  Hands reach up to cup Dean’s face.  Cas is too close.  Any other time, any other place Dean would back away.  Would make an offhand joke and tell Cas to cut it out.

But this is a dream world.  He can do whatever he wants and no one will see.  So, he stays.

“You said you would choose the truth over paradise.  But here you can have everything you ever wanted.”  Cas leans forward and touches their foreheads together.  It is the closest they’ve ever been and Dean has never felt so warm, so safe, so loved as he does here, wrapped in Cas’ arms and wings.

His chest shudders and Dean starts to weep in earnest but Cas just holds him tighter.  It feels so real.  He wants it to be real.  “But it’s not real.”

Cas shushes him.  “It can be,” he says.  “Let me make it real for you.  Here, in this place.”

Michael wants his continued permission.  Dean recognizes that this might be his last chance to cast the archangel out for a long time.  Possibly forever.  He steels himself for rejection.  “I won’t say the words.”

Michael laughs Cas’ deep rumble but doesn’t seem upset.  He just nods Cas’ head.  “I’m not cruel.  I won’t make you say it.  Just answer a question.”

Dean opens his eyes and stares.  Cas’ eyes look so blue.  So open and vulnerable and full of apprehension and fear of what Dean will say.  This is his Cas.  It has to be. 

“Dean,” this Cas says.  “Do you love me?”

It’s a trick.  A trap.  Dean knows he should say no.  He knows that a yes here is a yes to Michael.  But he’s been lying for so long.  Hiding behind half-truths and self-deceptions.  He knows half of the hurt in his Cas’ eyes are because of him and his lies.  But in this place, he feels he can finally tell the truth.  After all, no one else can see.

So, Dean tells the truth.

“Yes.” 

Somewhere, standing over the world that will soon be his, Michael smiles.


End file.
